


Alone and Lonely

by Silex



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Creepy Fluff, F/F, Interspecies Romance, arachnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: Alone and feeling lost a young woman finds comfort from a most unexpected source. Is the odd little spider a pet, a friend, or something more?





	Alone and Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> Looking back I probably should have written it in second person, but that wasn't how the idea came to me and I often find second person jarring if the character doesn't line up with me sufficiently. Writing it was a fun ride though, inspiration struck me in an unexpected way at an unexpected time and I ran with it.

She hated cats, always had. Before coming to the ‘neath she’d disliked them and the ones here were far worse. Unbearable, arrogant and too smart for their own good with all their comings and goings and secrets that she wished that they’d keep to themselves.

And the looks that they gave her when she tried to shoo them away from her window.

Like the cats back home, because she still couldn’t bring herself to think of this place as home, they knew when a person didn’t like them and would refuse to leave that person alone.

She hated the cats and missed home and missed…

Everything really, all the things she couldn’t go back to and the people, them too.

Life wasn’t fair, but it went on and she had to go on as well, day by day, doing what she could.

The cats though, always sticking their noses into people’s business. Right now she could hear one pawing at her window, the soft, scratchy tapping of a padded paw. Maybe no one would see if she opened her window a bit too fast and shoved it off the ledge. Cats did always land on their feet, so it wasn’t like the miserable creature would come to any harm and it might look like an accident.

Yes, that was it, she was just so excited that a cat wanted to visit her that she rushed and…

She threw open the window with a triumphant ‘Ha!’

There was no cat.

No yowl of shock.

No soft, peeved ‘thump’ of four paws hitting the street below.

A mottled brown and gray spider skittered up onto the ledge.

It was a large one.

Or maybe a small one.

She’d heard of Sorrow Spiders and if it was one of them it wasn’t a very big one.

On the other hand if it was a normal spider it was abnormally large.

Fascinating.

It stared up at her, bright eyes and sharp little fangs glinting.

“Hello,” she said with a wry smile, expecting it to dart away.

Instead it clicked its fangs together and stepped into her room.

All business, it strode across the floor and over to her bookcase.

Her _empty_ bookcase, devoid of anything of interest and padded into a small hole that she hadn’t previously noticed.

That was the problem with not liking cats and refusing to invite them in, the rats took it as an invitation and she’d certainly had more than her fair share of problems with the rats. They woke her up at all hours of the day and night, whenever she was trying to sleep, with their symposiums and little political rallies. The ones in her walls seemed to fancy themselves revolutionaries.

She hoped they lost.

A startled squeak interrupted her thoughts, followed by several more increasingly agitated ones.

Finally there was a shrill cry of pain and the sound of many little feet moving in a hurry. The spider had found the rats and gotten one by the sound of it. The rats, cowards that they were had abandoned their compatriot to its fate.

So much for the revolution.

A short time later the spider reemerged, limping slightly, one of the legs on its right side badly twisted.

It looked fat and otherwise happy, but the rat hadn’t gone down without a fight.

When it tried to climb back up the wall to get to her window it made less than halfway before misstepping on its injured leg and falling down. It landed heavily on its back and waved its little legs in the air.

She watched it for several minutes, wondering if she should do something.

Its efforts grew increasingly agitated, but remained equally ineffective.

She couldn’t leave it there like that, waving and clicking.

If she helped it the little thing might go after more rats.

If she tried to help it she might get bitten for her troubles.

Best to be cautious then.

Searching the room she found a soup bowl, badly cracked, but too pretty to throw away, that she’d been sure she’d find a use for eventually.

Well, she’d found a use for it now.

She gathered several socks, in need of darning, but clean, and lined the bottom of the bowl with them. One of them she draped over the side and then she put the whole thing down next to the spider so that it could hook its tiny, pearly claws into the sock.

It did and immediately righted itself, climbing into the bowl, pawing at the bedding it found, then tucking its legs under it to sleep off its meal.

Pleased with having done her good deed for the day she left to run a few errands.

When she returned the spider was gone.

\---

The next day, or evening, she hadn’t kept track of which was which anymore for weeks since things happened at all hours here, the spider was back.

She knew that it was the same spider because the colors were the same and it was still limping.

Again it made its way across the floor, walking like it owned the place, and went to the hole in the wall.

More squeaks and cried of alarm followed including what might have been the faint ‘pop’ of minute guns. Were the rats armed?

Perhaps she should call an exterminator.

Except that would cost money and work didn’t pay _that_ well. Not yet at least. Eventually she might make a name for herself and then things would improve, but that was still a long way off, if ever.

This time it took several hours for the spider to return and when it did it left a trail of bloody footprints.

The blood wasn’t its own, she was sure of that, because spiders, not even Sorrow Spiders, as far as she knew, bled.

It went over to the bowl which she had left, climbed in, pulled the socks up around it and went to sleep.

Once rested it got up and left.

\---

The third time it came it brought a companion. Clearly a Sorrow Spider, this one was as large enough that it could probably spread its legs wide enough to stretch across a dinner plate. Because it was similarly patterned she assumed that the two might be related.

Together they went into the hole in the wall, the larger one having to twist this way and that to squeeze through and for a moment it looked as though it might get stuck. That would have been a problem, but the spider managed after a great deal of effort.

They returned swiftly, the smaller spider leading the way, rolling something white and silver and black and green. The larger spider followed, sticking two long legs out and pressing them against the wall, pushing with all of its might, clicking its dripping fangs angrily when it managed to get a third leg half way through only to wedge itself in the most awkward looking position.

The first spider hurried over to help, but it wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to help unstick its brother, because that’s what she decided that the larger spider was, an older brother and the little one was an eager younger sister.

Just like…

She hadn’t been any good then, hadn’t…

She could do good now though, if she was careful.

Cautiously she reached out to the spider, hoping that it wouldn’t pop through like a cork from a bottle and launch itself at her. One of its legs brushed against her hand, claws hooking onto her, but not hard enough to break the skin. If it wanted to it could, she was sure of that, but Sorrow Spiders weren’t ordinary spiders and it knew it was at the disadvantage.

Its little sister hurried out of the way as she carefully took the two legs the brother had managed to get out between her thumb and first finger and gently pulled.

With her help it was able to get that third leg free, followed by a fourth and a fifth and so on and so forth until all eight legs were out.

Letting go she jumped back to see what it would do, which was hopefully not attack her.

There was no need to worry though, as soon as she was safely out of the way the little spider rushed forward, rolling the thing it had brought out of the hole over to its brother.

Back and forth it rolled the thing, dancing in excitement before its brother. Quick as a flash the brother reached out a leg and batted it away from the little one, stopping it beneath a second foot.

The mystery object was a glass eye. The landlady’s missing glass eye no doubt, because she’d heard the old woman complaining bitterly about it having gone missing from the cup that she kept it in next to her bed.

Drawing itself up to its full height the older spider flicked the eye away and then cuffed its sibling before storming off in a huff.

The little spider staggered from the blow, weaving back and forth before shaking itself and hobbling over to the glass eye. The young spider had clearly made a mistake.

It rolled it back and forth, scraped at it with its fangs and then slumped to the floor, legs splayed out flat in all directions.

The poor thing looked so dejected that she couldn’t help herself.

“There, there,” she held out a hand for it, maybe to help it up.

The spider tilted its head towards her and suddenly feeling rather silly for talking to the thing, she continued, “It is a very pretty eye,” far nicer than the landlady’s good, real eye, “I can understand the mistake. It was such a nice thing that you found that of course you wanted it and of course you’d ask your brother for help.”

Talking to a spider might have been foolish, but Sorrow Spiders weren’t ordinary spiders and if cats could be insufferable know-it-alls then spiders could be charmingly enthusiastic and need comforting.

It reached out to her with its front two sets of legs, far more delicately than its brother, and pulled itself to its feet. Shaking itself it trudged across the floor towards the window, stopped and marched back to the bowl that had twice served as its bed.

It climbed in and rather definitively adjusted the position of a sock, then went to sleep.

\---

This time it stayed with her and when she had lunch she offered it a few drops of tea and what she’d been told was honey. It wasn’t honey, not like any she’d ever tasted, but the spider didn’t seem to mind. The tea wasn’t to its liking, not that she could blame it, but it had no complaints about the honey.

It seemed that she had a pet, or maybe a roommate.

After lunch she returned the eye to its owner, making up a story about a cat having brought it to her to give back, much to the old woman’s delight. Because a cat carrying a glass eye made sense in this place.

As much sense as befriending a spider.

And having a spider friend was better than being lonely.

She’d been told that Sorrow Spiders would pop your eyes out and eat them as soon as look at you, but this one was a bit small for that sort of thing and didn’t seem so inclined to. In fact, it seemed rather shy and cautious, if a spider could be such things.

\---

In time she learned her new friend’s likes and dislikes, a few drops of blood, any animals’ would do, mixed with milk and honey for breakfast, little morsels of soft cheese for lunch and it would take care of its own dinner.

She would watch it stalk across her floor, weaving little webs in the corners of the room and amusing itself in ways only a spider could.

Occasionally it brought her coins, bits of oddly colored glass, dead rats, old keys and other such trinkets, probably its way of thanking her for feeding it and giving it a place to stay since it had run away from home.

She’d made up quite the rich history for the little spider, the youngest in a large family. Being a spider it probably had around a hundred brothers and twice that many sisters, it was always trying to prove itself, and it had gotten tired of being ignored or rebuffed no matter how hard it tried to do the right thing. Its mother spun some of the strongest webs and its father was quite influential amongst spiders, whatever that entailed, but it had no particular talents and more ambition than skill. It was a daydreamer, and, unlike her, had big plans for its life. It certainly hadn’t convinced itself that it had fallen in love at a young age, done something horribly stupid like eloping and then ending up making a series of increasingly stupid mistakes that resulted in the death of…

What it came down to was that the little spider could still turn her life around with the right encouragement, which she reminded it of during their frequent, one-sided conversations.

And she was willing to help it. From what she’d heard Sorrow Spiders were fond of eyes, those of people were their favorites, but supposedly they’d take other eyes as well.

So she gathered her courage and went to a butcher and looked at what was fresh and gathered her courage again, making up a story about not being able to afford an exterminator and needing to bait a trap for spiders or keep them from getting her. The butcher told her it was a matter best left to professionals, but sold her the eyes of a goat and two calves for a pittance. She’d been hoping to get them for free, but apparently it wasn’t just Sorrow Spiders that harvested eyes.

She didn’t ask who else would have wanted the eyes that she’d need to pay for them, or why, she simply took them and brought them to the spider for inspection.

The spider approved, seeming particularly impressed by the size of the calves’ eyes, so she wrapped them in a parcel for it to carry off, which it did, holding itself high.

She’d assumed that was the last she would see of her odd little friend, but several hours later it returned with an air of triumph. The two of them celebrated by having tea with extra honey, though it still wasn’t really honey and she still didn’t want to know what it actually was, and discussed what to do next.

\---

The vague lie of her method of protecting herself from spiders grew easier with each retelling, even as the number of eyes she purchased grew.

In her spare time she learned what she could of the nature of Sorrow Spiders and their interest in eyes. What she found was scant, frightening and contradictory, something she’d gotten used to. What she did learn was that they preferred unusual eyes and that her spider friend was going to have to do better than animal eyes if they really wanted to impress.

“Cats’ eyes?” she wondered out loud one day, and the spider perked up.

That settled the matter because she’d never liked cats anyway.

She didn’t feel at all guilty about luring one with a bowl of cream and eggs laced with brandy and letting it drink until it was stone drunk. Smothering it with a blanket had been uncomfortable and she’d needed to look away when the spider took its eyes and danced across the room and out the window with them. Seeing it so happy made the effort of disposing of the body worth it.

In time she would come to learn that there was quite the market for cat meat if you knew the right people in the wrong places and she’d been encountering them with greater and greater frequency.

She had to be careful though, because cats knew things and if they got suspicious…

Nightmares of being clawed to pieces kept her up at night instead of loneliness, but the spider stood guard over her.

Loneliness was still an issue though and there were times when she gave into it and the spider watched her, fascinated, but not judging.

\---

In time the little spider wasn’t so little. The size of a cat she did all her own hunting and the trinkets she brought back became more valuable, more significant. She could ask the spider for things and it would bring them as best as it was able which soon earned her the reputation as a finder of small lost things, which was what she took to introducing herself as and making a small but respectable amount of money from on the side.

It was a pleasant partnership and far better than being lonely and afraid all the time, not that there weren’t times where she was frightened of her friend.

The more she learned about Sorrow Spiders the more cause for concern she had. There were those who respected the spiders, almost worshiped them for the strange wisdom they supposedly possessed, but her friend didn’t seem terribly wise, just earnest and enthusiastic and somehow endearing despite being a spider. Perhaps it was something that would come with age because no one knew how long Sorrow Spiders lived or how long it took for them to mature.

There were probably people who knew more, but after an encounter with the strange and unnerving cultists that she’d sought out she decided not to pursue her questions any farther. The cryptic men and women proclaiming the ineffable knowledge of the spiders, missing one or both of their eyes, had left her badly shaken when she’d thought she was finally getting used to this place. She couldn’t fathom going that far in pursuit of answers to questions she didn’t understand and couldn’t imagine her friend asking such a thing of her.

What she had learned through rumor was that there was no way to be safe from Sorrow Spiders, that they could travel through mirrors when they wanted to, something the no longer so little spider had shown any ability to do, though it did manage to get in even when the doors and windows were closed. She’d watched it, looking for some indication of how it always managed to return to her, but it refused to reveal its ways when she was there.

Still, it was a relief that she didn’t need to worry about locking it outside.

\---

When the drunk had accosted her what followed hadn’t been an accident.

Unlike the first time, with her husband.

When he’d come in on her and…

She’d hurried on her way and in her fear made a wrong turn, ending up an alleyway that deadended against a brick wall.

It had been self-defense, just like…

What she did afterwards caught her by surprise, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Besides, it would have been a waste not to and the spider was so delighted when she brought the madman’s eyes back to her. The way she’d danced and capered about the room and been a joy to behold.

How she wished she could be so happy in the ‘neath, though the spider had known nothing else so there was that. This was her friend’s home more than hers and though she was learning more of it over time she feared that she would forever be an outsider.

Making matters worse, the spider was gone for several days afterwards and she feared that she was gone forever. No harm had befallen her of course, it was just too easy to imagine that the drunk had once been a professor, driven mad by something he had seen during the course of his studies and the image had forever been burned on the back of his eyes, making them something so rare and valuable that the spider had achieved such rank and renown amongst her kind that she had no need of other friends anymore.

No need of human friends at least, she probably had hundreds of them now amongst her own kind.

Thousands even.

At the very least she knew that she should be happy for her friend and stop making up such stories, preferable as they were to imagining that some tragedy had befallen the little creature.

It was far more realistic to believe that the spider had met an unpleasant end, but it was much nicer to think of a happy life for her, which made her eventual return all the more joyous.

Coming home she found the spider sitting on her bed. That was where she slept, on a spare pillow at the foot of the bed, having long outgrown the nest of a soup bowl and socks.

Dancing back and forth the spider lifted up something with her foremost pair of legs, a small change purse. Easily the largest gift she had ever brought, something jangled inside. No wonder it had taken so long for her to return.

Tears in her eyes, she took the gift and marveled at it as the spider excitedly watched. It wasn’t fabric, rather it was made of leather, so soft and fine that it was impossible for her to identify. It was dyed a delicate pink, and made of countless small pieces. At first she thought that it was sewn in some pattern with impossibly fine stitches, but it was a random collection of triangular pieces. Something about the size and shape of them made her think of the wings of a bat. Had the spider made it herself? Catching bats and then somehow sewing it together? The shimmering strands holding the clasp in place hinted at an answer and opening it confirmed her suspicions. The inside was lined with shimmering gray silk, the fine strands of a spider’s web woven into a sheet of almost glowing fabric. The gift itself was so breathtaking that the contents, an assortment of unidentifiable gems, some faintly luminous, paled in comparison.

“Thank you so much! It’s lovely!”

The spider danced in delight, then together they prepared a celebratory meal of liver and wine. The spider abstained from the wine, but occasionally dipped the little set of feet that she held up by her fangs, into the buttermilk that the liver had been soaked in.

She found herself fascinated by those little legs, so small that she hadn’t noticed them previously, so dainty in their movements.

After that night she found went and purchased the nicest silver thimble she could find and sealed the holes in it so that the spider could have her milk with honey from a proper cup.

\---

Occasionally the spider would bring friends of her own to visit, introducing them with much clicking of fangs and waving of legs, as was the fashion of her kind. She liked to imagine that the spider was saying kind things about her, letting them know that her house was a safe place to stay if they ever needed to and that she was not to be harmed.

That her eyes were to remain untouched.

Because there were times when she was walking alone that she didn’t feel truly alone, as though countless unseen eyes glinted from the shadows, watching her.

It was a comforting feeling rather than unnerving as long as she told herself that the eyes belonged to spiders who were friends of her friend. They’d keep her safe, wouldn’t harm her.

That was important, that they wouldn’t harm her or let her come to harm.

Having a friend who tried to look after her was nice, though there were times when she envied the spider for having other friends.

To make friends with people would have been wonderful, but the people she met were all too strange for her liking and she was probably too strange for them, keeping to herself, finding lost things and glancing nervously every time the shadow of a cat passed by.

Cats knew things, kept secrets, but not terribly well.

Her encounter with the drunken professor had been in an alley and it wasn’t much a stretch of the imagination to think that a cat would have seen her.

Just to be sure she stopped going after them, even left a bowl of plain cream out for them as a peace offering.

Because she wasn’t sure if having a spider for a friend was dangerous or not and didn’t want to find out.

Often it was impossible to tell what was dangerous until it was far too late.

She’d learned that back before, after first realizing eloping had been a mistake. She’d met a friend, not a spider, but an actual young woman, younger than her, but somehow far more knowledgeable in certain matters, who had taught her what terrible a mistake she’d made.

Taught her that there had been nothing wrong with her, nothing that needed fixing.

And then her husband found them together and…

She thought of that friend when she was alone and lonely, recalled her voice and her touch and missed the opportunities she never had, and regretted the lessons she’d learned too late.

\---

A soft touch blotted the tears from her eyes. She’d fallen asleep crying, thinking about the mistakes she’d made.

It wasn’t the touch of fingers, but the pawing of her spider’s smallest pair of legs, the ones by her fangs, so much longer and sharper than they’d been when she was just a little thing.

Gasping, she froze, knuckles white as she clenched her bedsheets. It was only fitting that such a betrayal happen to her.

Poetic justice for what she’d done.

Except the fangs never came any closer, the spider dried her tears, patted the side of her face with her foremost set of legs, claws scraping, but never hurting.

She watched in fearful fascination. Never had she seen her so close. Over each of the spider’s largest eyes were eyelashes, too small and fine and perfect to be real. They gave her seed black eyes a kind expression.

The spider backed up, lifting the sheets with her rear limbs and crawling under. The weight against her chest was heavy and comforting. Like a plush toy from childhood except somehow better.

The comfort offered wasn’t imagined with the spider after all. It was an actual living thing, one that had dried her tears and…

Scratchy little feet played across her chest, picking at the fabric of her nightgown and then lifting it just like the sheets.

She hadn’t made a habit of touching the spider and the creature’s bristly body was cold enough to make her gasp. The spider lay against her chest, growing warm from the heat of her body.

Then the spider touched her, the little clawless limbs by her fangs brushing against her chest, longer limbs wrapping around the swell of her breast, mimicking the movements her hands made when the spider had watched her touch herself.

Eight unnaturally jointed limbs moved with caution, exploring soft flesh until she gasped, letting the spider know that she had figured out the right thing to do. The small limbs flittered over the nub of her nipple, and she felt her body reacting despite her horror or perhaps because of it.

Fangs were cool against her flesh, the venom clinging to them numbing and burning all at once. Not a bite, just a touch, but that touch – was the burning the spider’s venom or her own feelings?

Her chest ached and it wasn’t from the claws or weight of the spider.

Longing filled her and the spider, driven by her gasps and moans, did her best to fill it.

Imagining the spider as human was impossible, not when she had so many legs and claws and bristled with countless, infinitesimal hairs, but it was easy to soften her features into something relatable, envision kindness and understanding in those glassy little eyes. The spider may not have been human, but she was undeniably female, the care in her touch, the tentative exploring rather than rough taking made that much obvious.

It was the spider’s first time doing such a thing, but she had watched carefully and had enough of an idea what to do.

The faint touch of venom had set her entire chest aflame, leaving it hypersensitive to even the softest strokes of the spider’s claws. Each brush of the spider’s legs made her writhe and squeal, but the spider knew and rode it out, holding fast with eight delicate, claw-tipped limbs.

Limbs that skittered lower, the kiss of fangs leaving a fiery trail down and down and down.

Carefully feeling their way as the spider walked backwards down the length of her body, finally stopping to rest at the fork of her legs. The little limbs by the spider’s fangs teased, feather light and she held her breath, but no sting of venom followed.

Instead the spider turned around inch by inch, moving each leg in turn.

The span of the spider’s limbs was long enough that the rearmost set reached her breasts, leaving the front pair to cautiously stroke. Testingly they flitted across her slit, finding warmth and wet, but not probing any farther.

The small legs by the spider’s fangs tapped and darted, teasing.

This was a matter of delicacy, each limb needed to be in place.

As the spider went about her ministrations, curious limbs dipping in, parting soft folds with a surprising strength, she gasped and whimpered and begged.

“Please,” she panted, “Oh please.”

She was afraid of what would follow, what the touch of those poison slick fangs would do. Their touch against her breasts had set her whole body aflame, but where they were now was far more delicate, already aching with need.

The spider seemed to know, the bristles of her legs tickling her as she explored what she had found, sliding deeper and deeper in, poking and prodding, searching and searching and searching. All the while the spider moved her rear limbs in slow circles around her nipples, stroking flesh made unimaginably sensitive by the venom.

When the spider found the spot she was looking for it elicited a shrill squeal, forcing her to bite her lip to muffle further outbursts. The last thing she needed was to draw the attention of the landlady.

First set of limbs in place, the spider slid a second pair in, more boldly this time parting and filling her, but not uncomfortably so. Despite inexperience, her friend was a gentle, considerate lover.

The fine hairs covering the spider’s body tickled, their roughness stimulating her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. It should have been revolting, unnatural, but it felt right.

They had been friends and now they were lovers, the natural progression of a relationship. And it wasn’t exactly something they’d rushed into. Theirs had been a long courtship, gifts and stories exchanged, meals shared.

And hadn’t they been sharing a bed for quite some time now? The spider sleeping on her pillow at the foot of the bed.

She’d been the one to invite the spider there, to invite this.

Legs shifted and rubbed.

She bucked her hips and clawed at the bedsheets.

The spider rode her effortlessly, held fast in place by eight strong limbs.

She could feel tension building, a feeling of weakness spreading down her legs.

Any moment now.

Any –

Little limbs squeezed at her most sensitive of places.

Fangs touched.

When she came it was with such intensity that she feared it would kill her.

The venom on her soft skin, an exquisite agony.

Never had she imagined that there would be a pain that left her wanting more.

Slowly the convulsions passed, their duration prolonged by the effects of her friend’s venom.

As they passed she became aware of the ache in her legs and stomach from how strong the spasms that had wracked her had been, the taste of blood on her tongue from how hard she had bit her lip to keep from crying out.

One by one the spider withdrew her limbs, eliciting further twitches and spasms with each movement. Sticky trails were left behind as the spider wiped each leg clean against her thighs.

Afterwards the spider padded down to the foot of the bed and assumed her usual place on the pillow there, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

\---

Itinerants were common enough and, like cats, frequent enough in their comings and goings that one would never be missed.

And she knew her decision was the right one when he turned to look at her. His eyes were mismatched, one the milky blue of blindness and the other a shining hazel, almost gold when the light hit it just right.

It was only fitting after all, a fine way to celebrate the consummation of their love.

She carried the gift back home in the little pink purse that the spider had made for her.

Perhaps the gift had been given in anticipation of such a use.

When she arrived back home the spider, her lover, was waiting for her at the table.

Smiling, she passed the purse to her, waiting to see the response to such a gift.

Fangs clicked in anticipation. The spider could smell what was inside and with trembling limbs, dainty and dexterous with their many joints, she undid the clasp.

Her dance of delight was wonderful, sending a thrill through her heart and setting an ache in her chest.

And elsewhere.

The sting of the venom was slow to fade, but in time it would.

And in time it would return. The look in her lover’s shining, seed pearl eyes as she inspected the gift promised it.


End file.
